


Undertow

by gladiatorAviator



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, M/M, SO MUCH FLUFF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-31
Updated: 2014-08-31
Packaged: 2018-02-15 12:36:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2229243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gladiatorAviator/pseuds/gladiatorAviator
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Snow in April is not, in fact, a prank.</p><p>Good thing Eren and Armin are prepared.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Undertow

**Author's Note:**

> I got a prompt on tumblr about Eren and Armin getting stuck in one of their apartments due to a snowstorm and also about Armin wearing Eren's shirt, then suddenly it turned into this! Beta'd by Kai, aka tumblr user gayprotagonist, aka ao3 user minorthirds. Go shower her with love!

“There’s a possibility of a severe weather warning this evening, and even some whisperings of a blizzard, due to a roiling mass of storms making its way here, and it doesn’t look like it’s dying down anytime soon. Please remember to stay inside tonight, bring in any outdoor pets, and stock up on supplies just in case--”

Eren flipped off the television. _Severe weather warning. Yeah, right,_ he thought, rolling his eyes. Bad storms always seemed to pass his city by, and come on, it was the middle of April. Sure there was a dark patch of clouds way out east, but Eren figured it wouldn’t be as bad as the weatherman had said. At worst, it would probably be just a bad thunderstorm. That’s the most severe weather that ever happened in this town anyway. And weren’t weatherman usually wrong?

Besides, he had a sleepover to plan for.

Eren sighed, bringing himself off of the couch and into the kitchen. He yawned as he absentmindedly filled up the carafe with water, pouring it into the water tank to heat up. Grabbing a clean filter to put in the bottom, he then spooned in the cheap coffee ground into the carriage top, eyeballing what seemed to be a good amount. Wishing he had something more delicious than the knock-off store brand, Eren left the coffee maker to its own devices and made his way to his room. He slipped out of his pajamas, then pulled on a simple tee and jeans. He didn’t need to impress Armin, after all. They had been friends since what Eren figured was the beginning of time, and they might have turned into a little more than friends after what happened last Christmas. Jean wasn’t too happy when he found the two in the guest bed together the next morning, clothes strewn across the room, both nursing a nasty hangover. _It was the alcohol,_ they had protested, their faces a bright red at the obvious lie.

A splattering sound pulled Eren back to reality. He cursed, tripping over a pile of laundry--was it clean or dirty?--and ran back into the kitchen. Lukewarm coffee covered the counter, still splashing its way off the hot plate. Eren hurriedly turned the machine off, somehow managing to not get the liquid on himself. “I can’t believe this,” he muttered, grabbing a dish towel from a drawer. There was coffee spreading its way over the counter, staining part of the floor--thank goodness the kitchen wasn’t carpeted like in his last apartment--and dripping off the cupboard above the machine. Eren glared at it, belatedly noticing the way the carafe teetered precariously on the edge of the hot plate.

With a frustrated groan, Eren set to work on cleaning the kitchen. Apparently, breakfast would not be an integral part of his morning today.

\---

A long while later, the kitchen glowed, granite countertops scrubbed until they shone, the tile now gleaming white instead of that weird grayish color Eren thought was the original tile, the offending coffee maker staying in time-out in the oak cupboard that now smelled faintly of off-brand coffee. Now all he had to do was make his living room look less like a tornado of junk, figure out how to not have a carpet of clothing in his bedroom, and clean the weird looking growth in his shower. Eren glanced at the clock above the dining table. He had--

The doorbell rang.

“One second!” Eren called, quickly shoving things into corners and closets. He skidded back to his door, throwing it open.

Armin stood in the doorway, rocking back and forth on his feet. There was a backpack slung over his shoulder, a duffel bag hanging to his side, and his most favorite blanket wrapped around his pillow in his arms. “Hey, Eren,” he smiled.

“Hey, Armin. You’re here earlier than I expected,” Eren grinned, leading him into his apartment. 

“That last final I had went a lot smoother than I thought it would,” Armin said. He glanced around Eren’s small living quarters. “The couch, I take it?” 

“For the stuff, yeah,” Eren replied as he cleared off some space. “My room has a bunk bed, so you can sleep on the top one tonight.”

Armin nodded, making his way through the mess that was Eren’s apartment.

“Sorry for the mess,” Eren winced as Armin tripped on a pile of dirty towels. “I was going to clean it up a bit, but there was a, uh, _situation_ this morning.”

“Of course there was,” Armin said, pushing off what was definitely dirty laundry off the top bunk.

“No, really!” Eren protested. “There was, um, a bear. Yeah, there was a bear in the apartment. I had to fight it off and that’s why it’s so messy.”

Armin gave him a long-suffering stare. 

Eren shuffled his feet. “Okay, fine. I didn’t put the carafe right on the coffee pot this morning and suddenly my kitchen was covered with gross half-cooked bean water,” he admitted. God, he felt so stupid.

“I’m amazed, actually,” Armin said. “You moved in only, what, five days ago? It’s already messier than your old apartment. It’s a good thing I didn’t take that bet with Sasha after all.” He gingerly set his stuff on the bunk, opting to keep the blanket with him. It was starting to get chilly, and Armin knew from past experiences that Eren would end up burrowing into the blanket with him later on, something that he was looking forward to. “If you want, I could help you with making it not look like a small explosion happened here.”

Eren blushed. “No, it’s fine. You don’t have to help me.” Armin was already gathering up bunches of clothes in his arms, reluctantly setting aside the blanket onto the bunk. Eren sighed, putting a hand to his neck. “Alright, fine. Guess we’re cleaning my apartment.”

“Where’s the laundromat?” Armin asked, catching a dirty sock as it slipped off the top of his pile.

Eren shrugged. “I think it’s across the street?”

“You don’t even know where the laundromat is,” Armin deadpanned, catching Eren’s eyes in a disappointed stare. 

Eren glanced away. “I haven’t got that far yet.”

Armin shook his head. “I can’t believe you.” He made his way to the living room, trailing clothing behind him. Eren followed sheepishly, picking up stray items and adding them to his own pile. “At least tell me you have a basket or bags we can use to carry this stuff down there.”

Eren dropped off his pile on the couch next to Armin’s duffel bag, grabbing a couple trash bags from beneath the sink. “This should work,” he announced, stuffing the dirty clothes into it. Armin rolled his eyes, muttering something under his breath about how unprepared Eren was, but stuffed the clothes into the bag without further complaint. They stumbled down the stairs, sacks thrown over their shoulders like Saturday morning cartoon burglars. A mighty gust of wind tore at them, the stormclouds Eren had seen earlier advancing closer, looking more menacing. Birds wheeled overhead, enjoying the last few hours of flight before the storm hit.

“I think I passed a laundromat on my way here,” Armin said, heading towards the main street that intersected the edge of Eren’s complex. Sure enough, there was a big sign announcing that yes, there was a laundromat close to his place. “You can find your way back here after I leave?” Armin grinned, bumping Eren in the shoulder.

“Yes, mom,” Eren rolled his eyes as they pushed their way into the laundromat. The smell of bleach and Tide hit Eren’s nose like a freight train. He wrinkled his nose, looking over at Armin doing the same. _That’s adorable,_ he thought as he studied Armin’s face, his cheeks pinching up in disgust, his little nose wrinkling, a frown on his face. 

“That guy looks _old,_ ” Armin whispered, his voice nearly drowned out by the machines in the background.

Eren followed his eyes. Sure enough, the man behind the counter looked more like a leathery old boot than a person. Wrinkles dominated his face, his eyes a little more than sunken pits in his skull, his cheekbones sticking up like cliff faces against valleys of skin. A pair of bifocals were perched on his giant prune nose, the rest of his face buried behind some old, decrepit novel. The yellowing pages of the book looked younger than him. A name tag pinned to a sweater vest indicated that his name was Gerald.

Armin cleared his throat, placing the trash bags on the counter in front of him. “We’ve got a couple loads,” he said, enunciating each word.

“Wha-? At this time o’ day?” Gerald said in a gruff tone. Apparently he was at a very interesting part in his novel. 

“It’s only 2, sir,” Eren interjected. 

The man grumbled, adjusting his glasses. He peered at the trash bags before him, frowning. “We don’t take out trash, kid. Dumpster’s across the street. Charity’s around the corner.”

Eren undid one of the bags, pulling out clothing. “This is laundry. We are at the laundromat. I’m not going to give my clothes away to charity.”

“It might make for a good opportunity for you to get something more fashionable,” Armin muttered behind him. “Don’t you still have stuff in there from high school?”

Eren waved his hand. “I’m not giving away my hard-earned band shirts.”

“Nickelback was never popular,” Armin retorted.

“Neither was Beethoven,” Eren countered. “Who listens to Beethoven?”

“I do. It’s calming and helps me study,” Armin bristled.

“You probably listened to it on the way here.”

“Of course I did! Every time I listen to ‘Moonlight Piano Sonata No. 14’ after a test I always get higher marks! It’s good luck.”

Gerald grunted, getting back the boys’ attention, taking up the sacks and sorting out Eren’s clothes. “This’ll be four-fifty for all these,” he said.

Eren fished out some ones from his pocket, Armin supplying the fifty cents. They set the money on the counter, Eren purposefully brushing over Armin’s hand as he released the money. Armin blushed as they turned away to wait, his hands ghosting over Eren’s with each step they took.

\---

Many games of footsies and thumb wars later, Eren and Armin trudged back to Eren’s apartment with fresh clothing bundled in their bags. Chill, sharp air bit into them. The wind had picked up, constantly throwing Armin’s hair in front of his face, no matter how many times he brushed it behind his ears. Eren steered him around, making sure that he wouldn’t accidentally trip and send his clothes flying away on the breeze. An army of magpies had congregated on the power line above him. They chittered nervously, as if sensing danger on the horizon.

Armin stopped abruptly, a look of disgust on his face. Eren paused.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“There’s something wet on me,” Armin hissed.

"Raindrops?" Eren wondered. He cast his eyes to the sky above. The sun was starting to disappear behind churning gray stormclouds. 

"No." Armin shook his head, then shivered. "It's not that--" he paused, then looked up. "You have got to be kidding me."

"What?" Eren set down the bag, following Armin's gaze. The magpies above them cawed, then took off in the air. Understanding passed through Eren. "Oh. _Oh._ "

"It's dripping down my back," Armin gasped. He let the bag in his hands drop, frantically unbuttoning his shirt. He tossed it aside, gingerly plucking it out of the wind by its sleeve. Sure enough, a huge white and black spot was splattered on the back of the shirt. 

"Well, cross off 'watching somebody get pooped on' from my bucket list," Eren noted. 

Armin glared at him, wrapping his arms around his bare chest, the offending shirt under his heel to keep it from blowing away. He violently shivered, a crisp gust of wind blowing through him. 

"Here." Eren pulled out a random shirt from his bag. "You can wear this until we get back."

Armin grabbed the shirt, studying it. "I'd rather suffer this out than be seen in a Nickelback shirt," he said, thrusting the shirt back at Eren. Instead, he undid the bag at his feet, pulling out a long-sleeved green V-neck shirt, one that Armin recognized as one of Eren’s favorites. He pulled it over his head, the sleeves reaching well past his wrists, the hem brushing the middle of his thighs, the tip of the V reaching the bottom of his sternum. “I can change into my pajama shirt once we get back.”

The two picked up the bags, and continued on their way, the poop-stained shirt carried delicately in Eren’s fingers. Armin kept glancing upwards periodically, as if another bird would decide to ruin this shirt too. Luckily, the two boys made it back to Eren’s apartment without incident. Armin made a beeline for his duffel bag, his sleeves getting caught in the zipper as he undid it. 

Eren glanced over at the window. The clouds were blackening the sky as they started to race overhead. He bit his lip, watching a tree in front of the window bend in the wind, then turned his attention back to Armin. The contents of the duffel were mixing in with Eren’s junk, every last item in the bag covering the area around Armin.

“I can’t believe this,” Armin lamented, running a hand through his hair. “I forgot my pajama shirt.”

“You better not have forgotten the Xbox too,” Eren said. He grinned to himself as he watched the way his shirt bagged around Armin’s knees as he searched the area around himself, then ran to Eren’s room where his backpack was. There was something about Armin that made even a shirt a few sizes too large look good. Either that, or Eren was completely smitten. _Who am I kidding,_ he thought as he watched Armin disappear into his room. _I’m completely smitten. Good thing the feeling is mutual._

“The Xbox is safe,” Armin said, holding it up above his head. “Wanna take out some frustration on newbies at Halo?”

Eren grinned. “What sort of question is that?”

It took less than two minutes to set up the Xbox--a new record!--and soon Armin was curled up next to Eren, his blanket over his and Eren’s shoulders, the shirt sleeves covering the bottom of Armin’s controller. They got through a game and a half before the lights started to flicker, the window glass shuddering noisily in its frame. While Eren was in respawn hell, he glanced again at the window.

“No way,” he breathed, barely paying attention as his character flew lifelessly into the air from a shot from the spartan laser.

Armin tore his gaze away from the screen, muttering something under his breath about the terrible lag they were experiencing, then nearly dropped the controller out of his hands in surprise. “Is that...snow?”

Just then, there was a horrible screeching sound from outside, and the apartment went black, the television screen giving out a dying whine as the power shut off. The apartment was deathly silent with the humming of various appliances absent. Armin huddled closer to Eren, pulling the blanket closer to himself.

“So I guess we’re not baking cookies tonight?” Armin asked facetiously. 

Eren shook his head, turning his body to face his window. Snow blew sideways, coating anything and everything in a field of white. Armin’s black sedan was sporting the newest white coat, the roads already caked in snow, ice forming on the tips of trees. The wind howled dangerously, throwing small bits of debris into the sky, battering Eren’s window. 

“What the heck. It’s the middle of April!” Eren complained.

“Mother Nature’s ways are mysterious to all,” Armin said, holding up an authoritative finger. 

“Mother Nature needs to get the memo,” Eren grumbled. “Seriously, it’s the _middle of April._ It’s supposed to be April showers not April blizzards.” He wrapped his arms around Armin’s waist, pulling him in closer. They watched the snow fall, piling up into massive snowbanks within minutes. Already, Armin’s car was buried up to the wheel wells. 

“Well, it’s a good thing I was already planning to stay the night,” Armin commented. 

“Depending on how long this storm goes on for, you might have to stay for more than just one night,” Eren grinned, planting a kiss on the top of Armin’s head.

“What a tragedy,” Armin sighed dramatically. “I hope you have enough food stored up for the both of us.”

“Of course I do! We have your basic supplies of bread, peanut butter, ramen, really terrible coffee, you name it, I’ve got it.”

“Fantastic. We’ll die from sodium overdose then.” Armin leaned his head back onto Eren’s chest, feeling his heart thump in his ears. “I don’t know about you, but it feels sort of like Christmas again.”

Eren blushed, likely remembering the Christmas gift Armin had given to him that year. “Yeah, it kind of does.”

Armin started humming, a melodious tenor filling the apartment. Eren recognized the song as Sleigh Ride, Armin’s favorite Christmas song. He joined in, his bass complimenting Armin’s voice as he began to sing. Soon, they were dancing around in the apartment, tripping over each other’s feet, blankets artfully arranged on their shoulders against the increasing chilliness pervading the air. Eventually, the two were entangled in each other’s arms, Eren’s head snuggled into Armin’s shoulder, breathing in Armin’s scent as Armin burrowed deeper into Eren’s chest, seeking warmth.

“All I want right now,” Eren whispered in Armin’s ear, “is some hot chocolate.”

Armin pulled away. “Stove’s out, buddy, in case you didn’t notice,” he said dryly.

“Wait a minute.” Eren jumped away. He booked it to his room, leaving Armin standing awkwardly in the middle of the living room, clutching the blanket Eren had around his shoulders.

“I can not believe you,” Armin hissed under his breath as he sat down on the floor to wait. He could hear Eren madly clearing out his closet, metal bangs and plastic thumps filling the air with the occasional peppering of Eren cursing. Armin shook his head, wrapping the blankets tighter around him.

“Yes!” came Eren’s triumphant yell as he barreled back into the living room with a box over his head. 

Armin groaned. “Not the stove in a can.”

“Yes, the stove in a can,” Eren grinned, plopping it down in front of Armin.

“Isn’t that like, a fire hazard or something? You know, technically illegal?” 

“It’s not a fire hazard,” Eren said seriously as lit the fuel cell with a match. “It’s a fun hazard.”

Armin groaned again. “At least tell me you have s’more making material. If we’re going to die, let me go down with s’mores.”

“Aha!” Eren shouted as the stove in the can burst into flames, fire licking the sides of the metal edges. “Of course I have s’mores material. I _am_ s’more material. I’d be the disappointment of the family if I didn’t have s’more material.” He hopped up, vaulting over the counter and rummaging through the cupboards. 

“You know if someone checks up on us you’re going to be evicted,” Armin noted as he scooted closer to the fire, warming his hands. “And don’t forget the roasting sticks. Remember what happened last time we tried using the bamboo skewers?”

Eren grimaced. “That was a fun night.” He threw open every cabinet and drawer, then cursed. “Armin, I am a disappointment.”

“Are you serious,” Armin deadpanned. “I’m going down with the ship with no s’mores?”

“We are going down with the ship with no s’mores,” Eren confirmed, sheepishly sitting down next to him, rubbing the back of his neck.

“That’s it,” Armin stood up, careful to keep the blanket away from the little fire burning in the center of the room. “I’m breaking up with you.”

Eren flinched, the air seeming to become colder even with the fire and the room small and uninviting. “We were dating?” he asked hesitantly, glancing up at Armin.

Armin looked away, drawing in his shoulders and gripping the blanket tighter in his hands. “I-I don’t know,” he stammered, voice wavering. The fire crackled, throwing off flickering shadows onto the walls, the wind outside howling and begging entrance into Eren’s home. Armin pursed his lips, looking at everything besides Eren staring up at him. 

“I mean, if you don’t want to then we don’t have to be,” Eren said fretfully. “I just thought that after what happened at Christmas we were a thing but maybe we weren’t a thing? Maybe I took things the wrong way and-and maybe I just thought that...oh god, Armin, I love you.” He stopped abruptly, clapping his hands over his mouth. “Oh man, oh my god, I’m sorry, Armin, it just sort of popped out-”

“I love you too,” Armin blurted out, blushing to the tips of his ears. 

Eren’s eyes widened, his mouth hanging open in shock. “You...you do?” was all he could croak out.

Armin nodded, sinking down next to Eren. He fidgeted with the blanket, twisting and untwisting it around his fingers. “I wanted to tell you for a while now,” he said, biting his lip. “But the opportunity never came up, what with school and all right after the Christmas party. After all the weeks that passed by, with us dancing around each other like we were, I decided to drop it, since you seemed so uncomfortable around me.”

Eren scooped Armin up into his lap. “I thought that you were avoiding me since I did something wrong,” Eren said. “I wanted to ask if you wanted to go steady with me, but you kept disappearing from, well, everything whenever we did have a chance to hang out.”

“You wanted to ask if I wanted to ‘go steady’ with you?” Armin laughed softly. “You’re such a nerd, Eren.” 

Eren blushed. “Yeah, so what?”

“Go steady? What are you, stuck in the nineties?” Armin shook his head, shifting closer to Eren. “So you really want to be stuck with me?”

“There’s no one I’d rather be stuck with,” Eren said, pulling Armin in for a kiss.


End file.
